Chapter 17
Brett
Bailey’s oohs and ahs over my mud cake are similar to the ones she made when I was giving her one of many orgasms tonight. As she licks her spoon clean and dips it down into the chocolate icing for another bite, she moans appreciatively.
“You know if you keep up that moaning I might have to put you over my knee again,” I muse.
I adore her reaction to my cooking, probably equal to the reaction of hearing her orgasms. But something inside me feels a little sad that she doesn’t seem to have been treated well or looked after in the past. It doesn’t seem the norm for her to have a guy to cook her a meal, make love to her the way she deserves, and then feed her cake.
It’s pretty simple to me. And fuck, I’m loving every moment she’ll have me here.
Her being okay with me coming into her house while she was still at work told me everything I needed to know. I’m hooked. And I don’t get hooked that easily.
People think life on the road is glamorous, and having women throw themselves at you wherever you go is something to be measured by. But in truth, all of it gets pretty old.
I find myself craving my roots and something more meaningful, and deep down I’ve always been this way.
I can’t help it.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” she says as the spoonful of cake disappears into her mouth. “And if it means I get to eat cake and be spanked, so be it.”
I grin, she sure looked fine with her ass all perky over my lap.
And that pink tinge to her skin makes me want her all over again.
Fucking hell, this girl is doing things to me that I’ve never felt before.
Anything can seem good after such a short time, maybe.
But nothing has ever made me feel so alive.
The horseback ride today, the way she was with the animals, and the guests on the trail back ride. Hell, how she was with me, knowing I was apprehensive about riding again. She didn’t push me into it, or make me feel as if I couldn’t do it.
She’s the perfect amount of everything.
“You know, that’s a pretty damned fine combination, little lady.”
She laughs and continues to eat. And I watch her with utter fascination. Who knew that watching her eat my grandma’s famous mud cake would have me all loved up inside, hanging onto every word, every moan, and every other note of appreciation that comes from her.
“You have to make this again,” she croons. “Say you will?”
My mouth pulls up at the side and I contemplate it for just a moment, enough for her to give me a little shove. My body rocks and I can’t hold my laughter anymore. “I will,” I say. “I’ll be our own personal mud cake chef. I can even feed it to you if you like?”
“Now you’re talking.”
I laugh and take a mouthful of cake from my own plate, and not meaning to toot my own horn, but it is pretty damned good.
Bailey
“I need to meet this Cowboy Brett immediately.” Izzy squeals, bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands together as we wait in line at Butterfingers Bakery for the Friday morning coffee run.
A tradition that Izzy started not long ago, after she moved back home from college to work at Lawless Farms as the resident dog-walker, and to start her job at the Alpine Falls Waggy Tails Veterinarian Hospital.
“And that you will,” Sadie chimes next to us who kindly let the cat out of the bag in the car, yes it takes the three of us to get the coffees and muffins for the Lawless Farms staff, though, technically I haven’t clocked in for work yet. I’m just here for moral support and the muffins.
I also had no real choice but to give Izzy a quick rundown on the scoop—leaving most of the dirty details out, of course—but how we’d met that night at the Perky Porch and one thing lead to another.
“For god’s sake, don’t tell your brother,” I moan. “That’s if Jed hasn’t already gone and done it himself. You know he can’t keep that smart little trap of his shut.”
“My lips are sealed,” she says, making the zipping motion across her mouth with her thumb and forefinger, but manages to add a muffled: “But I still want deets.”
“Word is he makes the best chocolate mud cake this side of the Mississippi.” Sadie shrugs.
“I bet that’s not all,” Izzy jokes, though she isn’t far wrong at all.
Jo-Beth appears from out back and narrows her eyes toward Sadie. “Heard that about the cake.”
Sadie holds her palms up. “Apart from yours, of course.”
Nope, I definitely could not eat anyone else’s mud cake, not after that conversation about spanking. I’d never be able to look JB in the eye again.
I mentioned he made dinner and his grandma’s prize-winning mud cake and now the girls all think we have a thing.
I mean, I guess something is going on. But it isn’t a thing, I don’t think.
I’ve no idea how long this hot cowboy is even in town for.
A conversation we need to have sooner rather than later, I guess.
He could be a blow-in for a few months, if not weeks, for all I know.
“A man who cooks for you, loves horses and bakes you his grandma’s mud cake before a round of tonsil hockey and god knows what else is a keeper in my book,” Izzy states. “I don’t know why you’re standing in line here with us when you could be over there banging him right now.”
I almost choke at her words while the girls all laugh, not that I should be surprised, this is just Izzy. “It wasn’t tonsil hockey,” I state, even if I’m lying through my teeth. “And where do you suggest I bang him, Iz?”
“His place, your place, somewhere in the back barns at the farm we barely use. I don’t know, I’m sure you can find somewhere.”
“Geez.” Sadie pretends to cover her ears with her hands and sing. “TMI. But as long as it’s not my office.”
I roll my eyes. “No one is banging in your office or anywhere else on Lawless property. I’m pretty sure I want to keep my job.”
I love it how none of them can barely contain their childish laughter while I remain the face of all seriousness.
“I heard Zane saying that Brett needs a place to crash. He’s been staying at the Alpine Apartments and possibly moving to Jed’s couch this weekend.” Izzy looks at me pointedly and waggles her eyebrows.
“And what has that got to do with me?” I ask as JB busies herself getting the box of muffins ready for us, but I can tell from the way she presses her lips together that she’s keeping up with the conversation.
“What about the bunkhouse over at Cedar Hollow? You could put poor Brett up until one of the workers’ cottages opens up?
” Izzy suggests, as like it’s the most normal thing in the world, to let a man you’ve known for two days, but have already slept with multiple times, live on my property.
She’s talking about the bunkhouse I’ve spent the past six months renovating and turning into a rustic cabin accommodation that I plan to rent out to tourists once it’s finished.
It’s just a little side hustle I’ve been working on for a while in between work and the animals.
The extra income will come in handy, and it’s down the bottom of my property, so not near the main house at all, but surrounded by trees and backs onto the lake.
“How would that be a good idea?” I balk as Sadie and JB share a giggle. “And what’s poor about him?”
“Do I need to spell it out?” Izzy places a hand on her hip and pouts.
“You haven’t even met the guy, Iz!”
She shakes her head. “Well, I’ll be sure to meet him today if he’s working. And I don’t need to meet him to know you’re completely smitten.”
“Now that I can attest to,” Sadie chimes in.
I give her a look somewhere between an eye roll and utter exasperation. “I’m just having a little fun, that’s it,” I say. “It’s been long enough, the dry spell was at epic proportions.”
“Well, I think it’s a great thing,” JB says, placing the muffin box on the counter while her Barista, Jaimee, gets the coffee order organized. “And I can confirm from what I saw at the Perky Porch, he’s hot.”
“YESSS!” Izzy cries with glee. “It’s what we all want for you Bailey, and a hot cowboy is what the doctor ordered.”
“Which doctor?” I grumble.
My grumpiness over this whole line of questioning doesn’t discourage Izzy, oh no, not one bit. If anything, it only spurs her on and encourages her to keep talking about things she has no clue about. Like Brett.
“So what do you say, Bails? Can you spare your bunkhouse out of the kindness of your heart for one of Lawless Tree Farms newest workers?” she asks. “I’m sure Zane will organize a reference check so we’re not setting you up for a fall if he turns out to be not who he says he is.”
“You seem awfully concerned about Brett’s living arrangements,” I point out. “Since you’ve never even met the guy.”
“I can only tell you what Zane was saying to Dad earlier. They were trying to figure out a solution to his living quarters for the time being.”
“The old bunkhouse it is!” JB sings as she starts putting the coffee cups in the cardboard holders, ready for us to take.
I side-eye her. “Don’t you start, I have enough with these two on my plate.”
“Hey, what did I do?” Sadie chirps. I just love how she acts all innocent in this.
It was her and JB that pushed me to go and talk to Cowboy Bretty that night.
Not that I’m complaining, of course, I just don’t know how to navigate this.
The intensity I’m experiencing with him isn’t something I’ve ever had before.
“You might not be saying much, but I know how your mind works,” I say to Sadie.
She doesn’t argue with that and it almost makes me smile. Something I’ve apparently been doing a lot more in the last twenty-four hours, according to my friends. All false, of course.
“You know, if the bunkhouse isn’t suitable for your new lover boy, then maybe your place might just do the trick.” Izzy winks a very exaggerated wink.
“Do you have something stuck in your eye?” I quip.
She laughs and shakes her head.
“To set the record straight, he’s not staying at my place.”
“But he cooked in your kitchen and spent the night,” JB points out in a hushed whisper, even though there are no other customers within earshot, thank goodness.
I don’t need the whole town knowing about my sudden sexcapades. “He knows his way around the place, saves going back and forth.” JB shrugs like that really is the biggest solution of all time.
“I bet he sure does know his way around,” Izzy jibes, and this time I swipe her on the arm, which she almost dodges.
“Thank god I have you three to help me with crazy ideas I don’t need,” I say. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
They all laugh in unison and chime, “You’re welcome.”
I know my friends just want to see me happy, and although I haven’t told them everything, they know I’m having a strong reaction to Cowboy Brett, and that he stayed over last night.
I haven’t stopped thinking about him. Not since I walked in on him making dinner.
Then our escapades in my bedroom. The spanking.
The cake. Trussed up in the shower after said cake, and falling asleep with him exhausted in bed.
We even cuddled, for goodness sakes. Something I’ve not been comfortable doing with anyone for a long, long time.
Then he was up at the crack of dawn, making me coffee before he had to leave, kissing me on top of the head and exiting the way he came in.
The guy is a fucking saint, that’s all I can say.
As for the rest. I guess I’m going to just have to wait and see.